


Just Another Night

by AliceInKinkland



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Angst, Depression, F/M, Menstrual Sex, Public Sex, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, mid season six
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-21
Updated: 2015-02-21
Packaged: 2018-03-14 10:34:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3407426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AliceInKinkland/pseuds/AliceInKinkland
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's another night of flipping burgers, trying to feel something, anything.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just Another Night

**Author's Note:**

> I like to imagine how characters would deal with their periods, since that's such a basic question that so rarely gets addressed onscreen. Mostly I imagine cute happy stories (think of Buffy coaching Willow through putting in a tampon in a Sunnydale High bathroom, and Cordelia walks in and Buffy's worried she'll make fun of Willow, but Cordy's just all period solidarity like, "If you need another one I have one in my purse."). But then this popped into my head and made me sad so I wrote it down.

He’s on her as soon as she walks out the door, before she even has a chance to pull off her hairnet. Slamming her into the wall, he rubs his cold erection against her thigh and whispers, “I can smell you.”

Trying to hide her embarrassment, Buffy quips, “Yes, well, this is where the magic smell happens. I don’t just soak my entire body in used vegetable grease for fun, you know.”

Spike rolls his eyes. “No, slayer, I mean I can smell _you_. It’s that time of the month, innit?”

 _Oh right_. “Yeah, listen, I meant to say, you didn’t need to come today, it’s totally OK if you don’t want to, I mean, Riley never…” She trails off, remembering the kind of creature who is standing before her. A creature who is currently giving her one of those amused smirks she always wants to punch off his face. “Oh.”

Spike is already on his knees, undoing her jeans by the dim light of the Doublemeat Palace sign. He deftly pulls out her tampon and throws it into the dumpster beside them, and seems poised to bury his face between Buffy’s legs when Buffy pulls him back by a handful of peroxide-blond hair. 

“How do I know you won’t go all vampy on me?”

“Aw, love, you know I don’t want to hurt you.”

Buffy’s laugh is hollow. “Why do I find that hard to believe?”

“You wound me.”

“Yeah, well, not as much as you’ll wound me if those fangs come out.” She pulls him to his feet by the front of his shirt. “Fingers only.” She glances back at the employees’ entrance. “And I only have fifteen minutes. More like ten now.”

Spike pushes her back against the wall, the heel of his hand pressing so hard into her collarbone Buffy knows it will leave a bruise, even for her. With his other hand, he plunges one, two, three fingers inside her in quick succession. Spreading her blood and wetness over her clit with his thumb, he pounds her cunt with his fingers.

A car glides past on its way to the drive-through window, its lights momentarily silhouetting Spike’s leather coat and mussed hair. Something about the image makes the cold sadness settle in Buffy’s stomach even more solidly than before. She bites back tears and fucks herself harder on Spike’s fingers. She feels like she is scrabbling for toeholds on the side of a mountain.

Buffy feels her orgasm rise from deep within her, as though Spike is tearing it out of her gut with every thrust of his hand. She closes her eyes, and for one impossibly short moment, it all disappears—Spike, the Doublemeat Palace, the rejection letter from UC Sunnydale crumpled in the pocket of her jeans. Then her life comes back in a heavy rush, and Buffy remembers how much she hates this, hates Spike, hates herself for letting him rip her from heaven over and over again.

Spike is still moving his fingers inside her, more slowly now, coaxing out aftershocks with a practiced hand. Buffy grabs his wrist and yanks him out of her. He brings his fingers to his lips almost immediately, growling slightly as he licks them clean. Buffy can’t tell if she feels numb or angry. She isn’t sure which feeling is the right one. 

“I need to get back inside,” she says, fumbling with her jeans. 

Spike nods. “I could wait around, pet?”

She shakes her head. “I need to get back to Dawn as soon as my shift’s over. You know, there’s this thing called dinner that humans do?”

“Hope you aren’t feeding the little bit too much of this crap.” He gestures at the building in front of them. 

Buffy feels her hands tighten into fists. How dare he care about Dawn’s nutritional intake? How dare he remind her of everything she is doing wrong? She pulls open the door and steps back inside without turning around. As the door slams shut behind her, she hears Spike yell, “Don’t ignore me! I’ve tasted far better than you, you know!”

It’s not until she gets to the washroom to put in a new tampon that she realizes she is sobbing.


End file.
